


getting better all the time

by PeppyBismilk



Series: Casphardt Kinkmeme Fills [13]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Sex, First Time, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Prompt Fill, background ferdibert, but it gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26412094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/pseuds/PeppyBismilk
Summary: Caspar and Linhardt’s first time leaves a lot of room for improvement, but Caspar is a fast learner.Kinkmeme fill for bad sex turned good.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Series: Casphardt Kinkmeme Fills [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009218
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	getting better all the time

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [this prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=2853192): Caspar is inexperienced and doesn't know much about sex so his first time with Linhardt isn't great, but overtime he learns and they have actually good sex.  
> +the first time was short and Caspar was overenthusiastic, but not (too) painful.  
> +even if the sex wasn't great Linhardt still enjoyed himself (even if it's mostly the nap afterwards)  
> ++if Linhardt's surprised by how good he feels.
> 
> Whether its gradual improvement or Caspar asked for advice/looked it up/experemented with himself/ect is up to you.

For as long as they’ve known each other, Linhardt and Caspar had never seen each other naked.  
  
Until now.  
  
“Whoa! If I knew you looked this good I would have asked to do this years ago!”  
  
Pride bubbles up in Linhardt’s chest. It’s no accident Caspar’s eyeing him like a piece of beast meat; he went to the trouble of arranging himself on the bed quite fetchingly, with one arm draped over his head, back arched, legs crossed to entice.  
  
“You’re rather spectacular yourself,” Linhardt says. Of course he’s noticed Caspar’s bulging biceps and thighs on the battlefield. He’s far more appealing to look at than dead bodies.  
  
But naked Caspar is...well, Linhardt never knew how badly he needed it. Those plump, juicy pectoral muscles make his mouth water more than dumplings. Laundry duty might be tolerable if Caspar’s abdomen were the washboard. And who would have thought Linhardt could be so excited over something so common as a cock?  
  
The bed creaks under Caspar’s weight and a thrill shoots through Linhardt. Soon, all that muscle will be pushing him into the mattress.  
  
“I can’t wait another second!” Caspar says, and then he’s on Linhardt. Caspar’s always been an enthusiastic kisser—sloppy and wet, rather like the puppy he had growing up (Linhardt forgot its name). It’s nicer with Caspar lying on top of him. That splendid cock of his is downright hot, jutting into Linhardt’s thigh with an urgent agenda. Linhardt’s own pulses in response—that’s a new sensation.  
  
Hands—Caspar’s, of course—fly everywhere. It’s not unpleasant, but they don’t linger anywhere long enough, and when Caspar reaches his cock, it’s still trying to catch up.  
  
Is this how Caspar touches himself? Linhardt needs several minutes of light stroking before he can jerk himself in earnest, but Caspar jumps straight to yanking. The sting is interesting—there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, after all—but before Linhardt can ponder it, Caspar licks a hand and gropes for his own cock.  
  
“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”  
  
But it’s too late to ask when he’s already breaching Linhardt’s ass. Linhardt barely manages to push out in time, but the tip still burns. Does it hurt? Not really—Linhardt’s taken plenty of objects out of curiosity. But it’s uncomfortable. Caspar isn’t small, and—  
  
“Oh, you’re moving.” Linhardt’s voice comes out rougher than he intended, but Caspar’s cock feels like sandpaper in his ass.  
  
Caspar stops. “Is that okay?”  
  
One deep breath. Two. “Do you have anything more lubricious than saliva?”  
  
“Lubricious? Like, slippery?” Caspar looks around, then his eyes light up. “Oh, how about lotion?”  
  
The lotion helps. Now it's akin to shoving a cork in and out of his nostril. It could be worse. Caspar’s so focused he’s squinting, thrusting with an intensity he reserves for brawling and meals. It’s adorable, and Linhardt reaches up to dab at a stray bead of sweat on Caspar’s forehead.  
  
Caspar blinks. Their eyes meet. Something clicks in Linhardt’s mind, or perhaps in his groin—they’re twined too tightly to distinguish right now. And that’s a good thing. Surprisingly good. Like all that rubbing sparked a fire inside him and gave him a burning desire to stroke himself.  
  
Linhardt grabs his cock. “Ah…” The relief is incredible, Caspar grunts too, and then—oh. That pulsing. That warmth. That liquid.  
  
Caspar definitely just came.  
  
He collapses on top of Linhardt, which feels pretty good, except it’s a bit hard to breathe and his cock’s bent at a bad angle. It knocks down whatever was building.  
  
“Caspar.” Linhardt extracts his hand. “Please move.”  
  
“Oh!” Caspar pops up, flushed and sweaty. “Sorry. I was just so—that was really—was it good for you, too?”  
  
His eyes are so wide, earnest, and breathtaking, Linhardt has to collect himself. “I very much enjoyed watching you.”  
  
Caspar’s face falls (again, reminiscent of that puppy) and he looks down at Linhardt’s drooping cock. “You didn’t come?”  
  
“No.” A twinge of guilt. “But it was fine, I assure you.”  
  
“Fine?” Caspar shakes his head rapidly. “That means it was bad! I was bad, wasn’t I?”  
  
“Caspar, if it was bad, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell you so.”  
  
“Okay, sure, but it wasn’t good!” Caspar pulls out and dives for Linhardt’s cock. “Let me make it up to you!”  
  
But before he can open his mouth, Linhardt rolls over and yawns. “That won’t be necessary.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Caspar sounds disappointed, but Linhardt can barely keep his eyes open.  
  
All the reassurance he can manage now is, “I’m quite satisfied.”  
  
The last thing Linhardt remembers before drifting off is Caspar mumbling something while blotting at his ass. He’ll have to remember to thank Caspar for cleaning up later…  
  
———  
  
Caspar is beside himself.  
  
Well, he’s actually beside a snoring Linhardt, but he’s upset.  
  
The sex was good. Like, working out all his muscles groups at once good. Linhardt was so tight and warm and wow—the way he looked at Caspar in the middle of it? Just the memory has him shuddering.  
  
But Linhardt didn’t come. Sure, he said it was fine— _fine?_ Linhardt doesn’t get excited about much, but fine?  
  
Caspar doesn’t get it. He’s good at physical stuff! He spends all day brawling, so why isn’t he good at this?  
  
Wait. He spends all day brawling! He practices! Of course.  
  
But…Linhardt’s asleep. Caspar can’t practice on him now, and practicing with someone else just feels wrong. Aside from himself, he’s never even considered touching anyone but Linhardt.  
  
That’s it! He can practice on himself! Caspar grabs the lotion and slicks a finger. If he lifts his leg and twists his arm, he can almost—okay, his muscles are getting in the way. He swings his arm around and finds his rim from behind.  
  
“Shit!”  
  
If that’s what Linhardt felt like, no wonder it was so bad. Just one finger hurts, and Caspar stuck his whole dick in there! Poor Linhardt flinches in his sleep and guilt washes Caspar cold.  
  
There has to be a way to make this feel good for Linhardt, too. Maybe Caspar can ask someone. He gets help with training all the time, why should this be any different? All he has to do is figure out who.  
  
Manuela would probably know. She is a doctor after all, but asking a girl feels weird. He doesn’t want to ask Hanneman or Alois, either. Someone closer to his own age would be better. But who has sex with other guys?  
  
That’s when it hits him: Ferdinand! Ferdinand and Hubert have their weird thing going on. They have to be doing it.  
  
Ferdinand is easy to find in the stables, and he’s more fun than Hubert. Plus, he’s always happy to meet for tea, and today is no different. He beams at Caspar from across the table. “I am so pleased you sought my council. Now, with what pressing noble matter might I assist you?”  
  
Caspar frowns and taps his teacup, which is still too hot to drink out of. “Noble matters? That’s not why I asked you here.”  
  
“Oh?” Ferdinand takes a dainty sip. “Then what can I do you you?”  
  
“Tell me everything you know about anal sex.”  
  
Ferdinand spits fruit tea across the table. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
It’s pretty funny, watching Ferdinand lose his cool like that, but this is too important to laugh about. “See, I was having sex with Linhardt, but it wasn’t very good for him, and I just figured since you and Hubert are, you know”—Ferdinand lets out a squeak, then clears his throat—“that you could maybe help me out?”  
  
Ferdinand drinks deeply from his teacup, eyes closed like it’s ale or something stronger. He must have an iron throat because the scalding hot tea doesn’t faze him at all.  
  
“Very well. What do you want to know?”  
  
What didn’t Caspar want to know? “Does it hurt to have a dick in your butt? Because I stuck a finger up mine and it didn’t feel great. Isn’t the guy on the bottom supposed to come, too? And how long is sex supposed to last? I mean, I was just going for it, but Linhardt’s not like that, so maybe I should have slowed down. What do you think?”  
  
Had Ferdinand always been this pale? He blinks several times, then takes another sip of tea. “You should definitely slow down. You are talking so fast I can hardly understand you.”  
  
“No, I meant when I’m having sex with—”  
  
“I know what you meant.” Ferdinand’s teacup clinks against the saucer and he sighs in resignation. “It is not supposed to hurt, although there may be some...discomfort at first. But there are steps you can take to mitigate that.”  
  
Oh crap, Caspar should have brought a notebook. There’s so much to remember: new words like _foreplay_ and _prostate,_ careful preparation, and oil from the kitchen. So much oil.  
  
“More than you think you’ll need.”  
  
Caspar frowns. “But what if we slide off the bed?”  
  
“Not that much, Caspar…” Ferdinand pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just slow down and remember, this is not a battle you are trying to win. The goal is pleasing your partner.”  
  
Something slots into place in Caspar’s head. Pleasing Linhardt. It seems so obvious now. It’s not a race to the finish; it’s about the two of them, connecting. If Caspar’s going to do this right, he has to go at Linhardt’s speed. And in the meantime, he has to condition himself to last longer. And maybe learn how to finger a butt.  
  
“Thanks, Ferdinand! I owe you!” Caspar downs his entire cup of now-cold tea at once. “I’m going to become the best at sex there ever was, and I’ll tell you how it goes!”  
  
Ferdinand puts up a hand. “Tell me nothing, and we shall call it even.”  
  
Fair enough.  
  
———  
  
Sex doesn’t come up again for a while. It’s just as well. Linhardt’s ass ached for a day and his back a bit longer.  
  
But he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. The post-sex nap was mind-blowing, but before that, for a moment, Linhardt had felt like a new man, on the cusp of a different plane of enlightenment. If they tried again, Linhardt would surely reach it.  
  
Caspar doesn’t push, nor does he shy away. He kisses the top of Linhardt’s head while he’s reading, wraps his arms around Linhardt before breakfast, and takes Linhardt’s shifts clearing rubble.  
  
By the end of the week, Linhardt’s chest warms every time he so much as looks at Caspar, and when he catches Caspar chewing a pencil in the middle war council, that warmth smolders deep in his belly.  
  
“Caspar…” Linhardt pulls him aside the moment the meeting ends. “I need your assistance.”  
  
Caspar stands at attention, so eager Linhardt could kiss him. “Anything!”  
  
Smiling, Linhardt leans in and whispers, “I can’t stop thinking about you inside me, and I want you there again.”  
  
“Really?” Caspar practically yells it. “Then let’s go do it!”  
  
Hubert is the only other person in the room, and he shoots them a strange look as they’re walking out, but what else is new?  
  
They head for Caspar’s dormitory, and as soon as the door closes, Linhardt starts to open his collar.  
  
“Wait! Let me.”  
  
Caspar’s in front of him in a flash, but the disrobing is neither quick nor dirty. No, he undoes each button with a patience Linhardt didn’t know he possessed, pausing every now and then in his descent to flash a decimating smile.  
  
“Oh…” Every bit of Linhardt’s skin gets uncovered and caressed, and the half-sensations from last time come to fruition. His cock actually leaks, just from being touched elsewhere. Fascinating! “Oh, Caspar…”  
  
“Don’t—” Caspar slides Linhardt’s pants down and swallows hard. “Don’t say my name or I’ll, you know. Too soon.”  
  
Linhardt pushes a tender hand into Caspar’s hair. “Why would it bother me that you find me so attractive you come in your pants?”  
  
Caspar laughs, but he shakes his head. “Just...I want to try something.”  
  
“Anything.” And Linhardt means it, but that doesn’t prepare him for the all-encompassing heat of Caspar’s mouth on his cock.  
  
Oh, spit is good here. Wonderful, even. Caspar slurps and sucks and it’s like nothing Linhardt’s ever felt before. He can barely tell what’s happening, only that he’s hanging onto Caspar’s hair like his life depends on it and then—“Oh!”—he’s coming down Caspar’s throat.  
  
Coughing, Caspar pulls off just in time to take a shot to the face. The sight will surely stay with Linhardt for years, and he barely gets his hand down in time to block the next stream. “My apologies, I didn’t—”  
  
“It’s okay!” Caspar grabs his hand and licks his palm. “Yours tastes better than mine.”  
  
Holy shit. That’s a lot of information to digest, especially when Linhardt’s head is still floating somewhere above the monastery. His knees wobble and Caspar steadies him by the ass.  
  
“I’ve been doing research,” he adds.  
  
Research? There’s nothing left in him, but Linhardt’s cock squeezes out one more trickle. “Caspar, that is the single most erotic statement I’ve ever heard in my life.”  
  
“Yeah?” Caspar stands, still holding him upright. It feels good to lean on him, especially when no one’s life is at stake. “I studied hard, you know. I asked Ferdinand, I practiced on myself, and I even read a book!”  
  
Linhardt can’t decide what’s sexier: the thought of Caspar with his fingers up his own ass or Caspar with his nose in a book.  
  
“I just want to make you feel good.”  
  
And that’s the biggest turn on of all. So big that, despite having just experienced the most profound orgasm of his life, Linhardt doesn’t even feel like napoing.  
  
“I want to make you feel good, too,” Linhardt says, and when Caspar kisses this time, it’s less puppy-like. The bitter tang makes Linhardt’s stomach flutter, and when Caspar turns him around and bends him over the bed, he’s trembling in the best way.  
  
“You do,” Caspar whispers. “I’m invincible when I’m with you.”  
  
He presses a kiss to Linhardt’s ass and slowly, carefully pushes one finger inside.  
  
The difference is staggering. Still loose and fluid from his orgasm, Linhardt eases back onto him, not even flinching as second and third fingers work his hole open. “You’ll have to—ahh—show me how you practiced on yourself sometime.”  
  
“Yeah!” Caspar shouts. Going this slow must be killing him, but he doesn’t rush it, and Linhardt loves him so much.  
  
He tells Caspar, then says, “I’m ready,” and finds himself on his back. Caspar tears off his own clothes. He has oil now—that helps, too—and his cock throbs as he slicks it. Linhardt’s own hasn’t recovered yet, but it doesn’t matter. He’s never wanted Caspar inside him so badly in his life.  
  
When Caspar pushes in, Linhardt knows the truth: this is how it’s supposed to feel. It’s wonderful, the way his body makes room for Caspar. First, the tip spreads him wide, and then it’s easy to take a little more. Caspar hums with energy while he waits for Linhardt to urge him on, and when he’s all the way in, there’s no comparison.  
  
Moans slip out as easily as snores, as smooth as Caspar sliding in and out. It’s not enough to bring him off, not this soon, but it's magical. Caspar is beautiful to behold, with his slack jaw and barely controlled thrusts and cries. One day, when they’re better at this, Linhardt vows to take him at full speed, but for now, he strokes Caspar’s arms and calls his name, earlier warnings forgotten.  
  
It doesn’t last much longer than last time, but those strong pulses and Caspar’s warm release fill Linhardt like nothing else. The first time was good, but this is better, and the next will be better still because Caspar never backs down from a challenge—another thing Linhardt loves about him.  
  
Caspar sags onto him, more carefully this time, and Linhardt melts under his weight.  
  
“That was...” Caspar sighs. “Incredible.”  
  
“Mm…” Linhardt yawns and his bones and eyelids grow heavy. “It was. Much improved. Though I must assure you that I enjoyed our first time as well.”  
  
“I know,” says Caspar. Linhardt feels a kiss to his forehead. “But I can always do better. You deserve the best.”  
  
“As do you.”  
  
Caspar rubbing his stomach seals the deal, and Linhardt is only half awake to hear, “Sleep tight, Linhardt. I’ll clean you up.”  
  
And somehow, Linhardt knows his murmured, “Thank you, love,” is more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Caspar totally seems like the type to blow his wad early, but he is an investment piece. Plus, bad sex is always fun to write, and the prompt gave me a great chance to bring Ferdinand into the story. Hope you enjoyed it! Title comes from Getting Better by The Beatles.
> 
> And...I’m back :D


End file.
